


Put That Thing Back Where It Came From Or So Help Me

by SushiOwl



Series: Steter Trumblr Prompts [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mates Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Prompt Fill, there's a little dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10834353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: A fill for Mysenia's dialogue prompts, "You'll never guess what I found in my shoe."





	Put That Thing Back Where It Came From Or So Help Me

**Author's Note:**

> It's been like three months since I've posted anything. -snort-

When Stiles came racing in like he was being chased, Peter jumped up from his couch, scenting the air, but all he could smell was mud and his mate. And when he noticed the slightly crazed smile on Stiles’s face, Peter braced himself.

“You’ll never guess what I found in my shoe!” Stiles crowed, shoving the dirty chuck right under Peter’s nose.

Peter’s lip curled back in a disgusted snarl and he moved away. “A fungal infection? Because I could have told you that.”

“No, no, look!” Stiles shoved the shoe close to his face again.

Peter just smooshed his nose closed with his fingers and looked into the shoe. His brows lifted. “There is an egg in your shoe.”

“There is indeed an egg in my shoe,” Stiles agreed, before he looked in himself.

The egg fit quite perfectly in the toe of Stiles’s shoe. Peter couldn’t see it too well, but it looked almost metallic blue.

“Why is there an egg in your shoe?” Peter asked, squinting at it.

“I dunno. It was there when I found my shoe.”

“Where was your shoe?”

“In the woods.”

Peter lifted a finely plucked brow. “Why was your shoe in the woods?”

“It fell off when that werebear was chasing me.”

Rolling his eyes to high heaven, Peter sighed. “You need to learn how to tie your shoes like a functioning human being.”

“Excuse you, but having loose laces is in fashion these days, and none of that matters, because there is an egg in my shoe.” He pulled the shoe close, looking down into it.

Peter frowned as he gazed at Stiles’s face. There was tenderness there, the kind of look someone had when they saw a puppy and immediately loved it and wanted to raise it and care for it and possibly put a tiny sweater on it. It took all the wind out of Peter’s sails.

“Stiles,” he said, moving closer and laying his hand on the side of Stiles’s neck. Stiles looked up at him with big amber eyes. “You know it’s highly unlikely that the egg is still viable if it’s been inside your cold shoe for god knows how long.”

Stiles’s face drooped sadly, and he looked back into the shoe. “I know,” he said softly, before he moved to the couch. “But I’m not going to immediately dismiss it.” He set the dirty shoe in his lap and started pulling the laces from their holes. He dropped the lace on the coffee table, and pulled back the tongue to reveal the egg.

Peter sat down next to Stiles, watching him pull out the egg with his long, slim fingers. In the light, the egg was definitely metallic. It was a deep blue, but as it was rotated and the light hit it, green shown off its dome. That… was not like any bird egg Peter had ever seen.

Stiles cradled it in his palms and looked at Peter, his eyes wide and shimmering like those characters in the Japanese cartoons Stiles made him watch.

“Well?” Peter asked, a weird tightness in his throat.

Stiles burst into a face-breaking smile. “It’s warm!” he said, before he looked down at the egg. “Like, really warm. I can feel it moving.”

Peter wasn’t sure what his reaction was supposed to be, but he ended up just sighing out an, “Oh god.”

About three weeks of Stiles carrying the egg around in the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, even in disgustingly humid temperatures, it finally happened. Stiles let out a gleeful shriek at 3am, and Peter ran to him, barely conscious and certainly not dressed. In the corner of Peter’s living room, Stiles had set up a nesting nook. There was a box with Peter’s best, fluffiest and soon to be non-salvageable towel, which was sitting under a heat lamp.

“What?” Peter asked, going over as he rubbed his eye. He looked over Stiles’s shoulder at the egg. As he stared, the egg gave a little tremble, then another, causing Stiles to squeak in joy. Finally, a little crack formed on the egg.

“Get back,” Stiles nearly shouted, putting his hand on Peter’s face and pushing him away. “I’m the mama bird!”

Peter rolled his eyes to high heaven and went to make himself some coffee. 

Egg hatching was not a swift process as it turned out. The chick kept getting tired and stopping for a while. Peter went on about his day, lazing about on his computer for a while until he remembered he had papers to grade.

One why did I become a teacher crisis later, he went to make food. He slid Stiles’s plate across the floor to where the human was still sitting by the nesting nook. Stiles picked up the plate without looking, muttering a thank you as he dug into the food.

It was another couple hours before Stiles started letting out “oh, oh, oh!” noises with increasing volume. Peter looked over from his spot on the couch, putting the TV on mute.

“Hey, hey, hi!” Stiles cooed at the chick. “Hi! Welcome to the world, little gender non-specific friend!” He made little kissy noises at the chick, before he sat up ramrod straight, going very still. “Uh. Peter?”

“Yes?” Peter dropped his feet off the coffee table.

“Remember when I said I was the mama bird?”

Peter slowly stood up, starting toward Stiles and the chick. He could hear it now, making little chirping noises that would get annoying quick.

“I might be… another kind of mama?” Stiles turned toward Peter, cradling the… not-chick in his hands.

It looked kind of like a snake, except it was covered in damp deep blue and green down, much like the color of its egg. Its eyes were yellow, pupils tiny, and as Peter approached a translucent eyelid blinked over then back again. It had a kind of adorable little electric green beak that Peter imagined hurt like a motherfucker. Peter moved in closer and noticed a change its wet fluff along its sides.

“Welp, those are wings and I need a drink,” Peter said, heading toward the kitchen. Alcohol may not technically help, but the motion would make him feel better.

“Dragons,” he muttered into the mouth of his third beer.

“Technically it’s an amphiptere.”

Peter looked over at Stiles, at where his hands were loosely cupped against his chest. The winged serpent was dry now and outrageously fluffy with young feathers, winding around Stiles’s fingers with its wings drooping down and its beak peeking out from where Stiles’s thumb was resting against his index finger. It gave a shrill little snore.

“And it’s my baby.” Stiles grinned wide enough to blind.

Peter stared at him, shoulders slumping. “Oh god,” he said again.

**Author's Note:**

> My life's kinda shit right now. That's the only explanation I got.
> 
>  
> 
> [Details.](http://thesushiowl.tumblr.com/post/160289678676/everything-sucks-so-here-we-go)


End file.
